Thursday. FBI Holding Facility. Austin, Texas.
OBRAN PACED THE ROOM. He'd felt and heard the fight going on outside, but no one had cracked open the door. That meant that whoever had stormed the castle for him hadn't succeeded.
He wasn't sure if he should be glad or disappointed.
If he had to decide whose prisoner he wanted to be, it wasn't Skilton's.
Obran crossed to the door and pounded his fist against it.
Still no answer.
Was his wife still here? What about his children?
Skilton would use any of them given the opportunity.
Obran turned on his heel and stalked across the small room. He shoved a hand through his hair and prayed for answers soon.
At least the lights were back on now.
The digital lock beeped.
He whirled and listened as a key scraped the deadbolt aside.
His mouth went dry as he waited to find out his fate.
The door swung open and the black woman, Zora, stood there with a sack in hand. She took one step inside and placed the sack on the chair.